


Cravings II

by Destina



Series: Temptations [7]
Category: Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace
Genre: Early Work, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1999-06-02
Updated: 1999-06-02
Packaged: 2018-04-29 12:49:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5128247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Destina/pseuds/Destina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>More fun with food.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cravings II

**Author's Note:**

> Written in 1999; posted to AO3 in November 2015.

Obi-Wan reached out sleepily across the bed to snuggle closer to his Master, but found only an empty sheet. Disappointed, he curled up close to Qui-Gon's pillow and sighed his way back toward dreams. A pleasant, fruity scent drifted through his drowsy haze, pulling the corners of his mouth up into an unconscious smile.

"Obi-Wan." Seductive, and very close by. "Wake up, Padawan."

Obeying without thinking, the result of following years of commands by that voice, Obi-Wan stretched languorously and pushed himself to a sitting position, looking toward the sound. His smile widened into an appreciative grin as he observed his Master, naked, draped across the foot of the bed, eating some sort of yellow peeled fruit which smelled intoxicating. Small rivulets of juice were running down his hands, between his fingers, dripping onto the broad chest, sliding down across the nipples. Obi-Wan watched as though hypnotized as Qui-Gon took another bite of the fruit, putting it slowly between his lips and sucking on it before pulling it whole into his mouth.

Qui-Gon fought a half-delirious urge to grin with delight as he watched Obi-Wan's transfixed stare. "My turn," he reminded his apprentice in a low tone, picking up another piece of fruit, touching it to his tongue, then pulling it back, nibbling at it.

Obi-Wan was moving across the bed on his hands and knees, something entirely predatory in his eyes, those radiant eyes which held his Master's unbroken gaze. He settled on the sheet in front of Qui-Gon, turning on his side, and lowered his head over his Master's chest. His tongue found a sticky stream of juice and caught the droplet as it sped toward the sheet, lapping it up as a cat craves cream with small, quick strokes, moving higher across shifting muscles. He paused to circle a wet nipple with his tongue, biting gently with his teeth, a consciously slow torture. He tilted his head back and to the side, looking up at Qui-Gon, whose face openly showed his pleasure.

Obi-Wan took Qui-Gon's hand and turned it, guiding those long, pliable fingers into his mouth, cleaning them, experiencing the tangy taste. He watched with stirrings of deep fulfillment as Qui-Gon's eyes closed, his breath becoming shallow as Obi-Wan swirled his tongue around the palm of his Master's hand, pressing his lips there in a kiss. With Jedi speed, Obi-Wan raised himself on strong arms and felt his teacher's mouth open over his, welcoming him like an answered prayer, the magical sensations running through both of them like bottled lightning.

Obi-Wan broke away, lips tingling. "Tortorian tangerines," he said with certainty, the delicious taste still lingering.

"Correct, my Padawan." Qui-Gon shoved the plate of fruit aside. "Now what shall we do about a reward?" Erotic tension vibrated between them, and suddenly Qui-Gon was wrapping himself around his Padawan, surrounding him with arms and legs, silencing all requests with lips that scalded a trail across Obi-Wan's throat and collarbone, evoking soft, inarticulate, strangled cries.

Obi-Wan demanded his lover's full attention to his aching erection, which pressed hard into Qui-Gon's belly, and Qui-Gon met the need in a flurry of hands and movement and deft skill, his fingertips soothing the fire but refusing to extinguish it. He slowed the fever pitch, cradling Obi-Wan in his arms, loving every part of him with every inch of his own body, never holding back, giving as completely as he dared.

His Master's weight left him for a moment, then settled to the side. Through a fog of passion, Obi-Wan picked up the scent of something sweetly exotic, as Qui-Gon's fingers finally closed on the inferno between his hips, smoothing across the aching, straining flesh with something wet and warm. The excruciating, indescribable depth of his love for his Master strained to get free. Qui-Gon's mouth was suddenly on his again, and Obi-Wan could taste the source of the subtle perfume in the room, before that mouth descended, gorging on him, feasting, and as Obi-Wan came, Qui-Gon swallowed his Padawan's joy, the taste of his love echoing in the back of his throat, feeling a bit of his own soul slip away with Obi-Wan's.

Moments of silence passed, filled with the sounds of ragged breathing, as the two men lay spent, tangled together.

"Corellian cherry sauce," Obi-Wan said suddenly. With some effort, he raised himself on an elbow and looked over at Qui-Gon, eyes sparkling. "Your turn," he said innocently, as his Master slapped a hand over his eyes and groaned.


End file.
